


New ██████ █████

by haloween



Series: One Shots/AUs [2]
Category: Infinity Train (Cartoon)
Genre: Butch Lake | Mirror Tulip, Fairly Canon Compliant, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29893776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloween/pseuds/haloween
Summary: There were probably questions she should ask, dangers she should consider, reservations she should have--could she bleed?--but she didn't care. Thirteen fucking years in a mirror. Thirteen fucking years looking exactly like Tulip.She was doing this.
Series: One Shots/AUs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2196510
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	New ██████ █████

**Author's Note:**

> Written Nov. 2020

Nobody called her Tulip anymore, that was the important thing. She didn't have a name, but she was her own person. In her head, she called herself nothing at all. If a denizen asked, she let them call her M.T. It wasn't her name, but it was technically true, and she never knew anyone long enough for it to matter. Before long, she would move onto the next car, returning to silence and solitude. She carried on like that for a while, getting more and more used to being in the prime world. And some days, compared to the endless number of cars she had to explore, the endless adventures she could have, her lack of a name didn't matter at all.

Her clothing, however, was a problem. Actually, it wasn't even her clothing. It was Tulip's clothing. The clothing she was stuck with. The worst part of looking at a mirror was knowing that, within seconds, the flecs would come through. The second worst part was, for a moment, having to see the dumb baggy jacket and the dumb fucking skirt and her dumb fucking hair. She often daydreamed about finding some kind of sander and grinding her hair down until only a thin layer of fuzz remained. Or of punching out the next denizen who complimented her _pretty_ skirt. She wouldn't, of course. They didn't mean any harm. But it was still nice to imagine.

So when she found a car with a small clothing store in it, she immediately jumped at the chance for a makeover. She had almost expected that it would be hard to pick a new outfit, that she'd need to spend an hour trying on different items until something clicked. Instead, she was drawn to a few garments almost immediately. High-wasted gray jeans, a pack of boxers, a black t-shirt, and a gigantic, thick-soled pair of brown boots. The denizen running the register didn't seem particularly interested in being paid, which was good, because she had nothing to pay with. She slipped out when he wasn't looking, clothing tucked under her arm and a quiet smile on her face. She decided to look for somewhere to change in the next car. She didn't want to manage the swap out on the bridge, where a passenger could stumble upon her or the wind could whip her new clothes away.

The denizens of the next car attacked her the moment she entered. She batted the small, axe-wielding creatures aside with ease. As their weapons bounced off her, she absentmindedly wondered how many passengers had been seriously hurt by an axe to the leg in this car. Once the denizens had all fled, she took note of what type of car she was in. Some sort of dimly lit, stone blacksmithing workshop, complete with a roaring fire and all the tools of the trade. An idea came to her. She reached into the front pouch on Tulip's frumpy jacket and pulled out a pen on a chain, setting it on the smithing table. It was from the bank car, her first car after escaping the mirror world. The reason why she'd kept it wasn't quite clear to her, but it could make a good bracelet. She spraypainted it black--she'd jacked a can from a graffiti car--and secured the chain around her wrist. A satisfied smirk crept onto her face. She already felt so much better.

Then it was time for the bulk of the makeover. She tugged at the pocket mirror attached to Tulip's jacket. Long strings of chrome kept it connected to her skin and reflecting her as she moved it off the sleeve. When she let go, it flew to the back of her hand with a jarring _clang._ With her mirror out of the way, she stripped, dropping each piece of metal clothing carelessly on the floor. She then pulled the mirror down to her ankle, grimacing when her skin stretched out again. She hated the feeling, so she avoided moving the mirror as much as possible, but her new boots would be the best place to hide it. She ripped open the pack of boxers, selected a black pair, discarded the rest, buttoned up the jeans, and slipped her t-shirt on. Then, without really thinking about it, she tore the sleeves off. A quick check of her reflection in her hand confirmed that her impulse had been correct. The improvised tank top looked _so_ cool. The boots didn't have laces, but that was fine. They hid her mirror and wouldn't fall off--she tested that with a series of jumping jacks and a quick run around the room.

This felt better. _So_ much better. But she could still use something to tie it all together, some way to really change herself. None of the tools laid out on the table looked capable of getting through her hair. But the drill with the tiny, circular bit...

She'd always thought piercings looked badass.

There were probably questions she should ask, dangers she should consider, reservations she should have--could she bleed?--but she didn't care. Thirteen fucking years in a mirror. Thirteen fucking years looking exactly like Tulip. She was doing this. Solemnly, she reached for the drill. She lined it up, confirmed the placement using her hand as a mirror, screwed her eyes shut, and pulled the trigger. There was a loud whirr and flying sparks and then it was over. Tentatively, she brought a hand to her ear. Flecks of metal surrounded a clean hole. She dusted them off, took a deep breath, and brought the drill to her other ear.

The second time was less alarming now that she was ready for it. It was done in a flash. She dropped the drill onto the table. This was so much better, so much more natural. Her new outfit felt and looked good, and the warm air drifting through the new holes in her ears already felt completely right. Still, the change wasn't perfect. Her hair bothered her now more than ever. It was taunting her. She had found new pants, new shoes, a new shirt. Even something to pierce her ears with. But there was no way to get rid of her hair. That was life, though. At least it didn't look _too_ girly. And if she let herself get mad about it, she'd spend the rest of a day in an irritated funk. So, she stomped the feeling down. Time for the next car.

Her eyes drifted to Tulip's clothing, piled in an unsightly metal heap on the floor. She didn't really want to just ditch it here. Leaving Tulip's socks and underwear and all that junk just laying around for the next passenger to find would be kinda weird. But she definitely wasn't going to keep them. Absentmindedly, she stuffed her hands into her pockets while she thought. They were deep and surprisingly roomy; she could keep her spraypaint in them easily. Smoke drifted lazily through the air. The fire burned on. And then she realized she knew what to do with Tulip's clothes. She snatched them off the floor and made for the exit.

Blustering wind gusted around her as she left the car. Her clothes flapped wildly as she strode to the edge of the car. That was a new feeling; Tulip's clothes had been too heavy to blow around. She let Tulip's clothes crash to the ground at her feet. The train wheels churned unceasingly beneath her.

She picked up the item on top of the pile and dropkicked it.

"Goodbye, stupid dorky jacket!" Sparks flew as it hit the wheel and ground into nothing.

Another item. "Goodbye, stupid socks!"

"Goodbye, stupid ugly boots!" More sparks.

"Goodbye, stupid frilly underwear!" Another flash of light upon the wheel.

"Goodbye, stupid boring shirt!" Only two items left. "Goodbye, stupid, tight, uncomfortable leggings!" And now just one.

The skirt. She balled it up, grinning wildly, grinning furiously, and then hurled it at the wheel with all her might. "And goodbye, stupid _pretty_ fucking skirt! Goodbye, Tulip's shit!"

it disappeared in an instant, sparks flying and then dissipating into nothingness. Gone forever. Now it was just her. Her and and her clothing, her accessories, her choices. She panted heavily, suddenly aware of the adrenaline that had been coursing through her. For a moment, she loved the train for how easily and violently it had erased the last of Tulip's influence. Something else occurred to her, too.

If it could shred away the thick, impenetrable chrome of Tulip's jacket like it was nothing, it could easily do the same to her hair. A ladder built into the side of the car ran thirty feet down to the wheel. She started down it, maintaining a death grip on each rung. Each footstep was quick, steady, and assured. In her time running from the flecs, she had learned that hesitance and overcalculation was riskier than operating on instinct alone. By the time she reached the last rung, however, she was acutely aware of how dangerous her situation truly was. The car rumbled and quivered. She clenched the rung even tighter to keep her grasp from being shaken off. Her heartbeat thumped in her ears, somehow audible over the roar of the wheels. If she slipped, she would be ground into dust just like Tulip's clothes. Dead in an instant. It wasn't too late to climb back up, but...

Thirteen fucking years looking exactly like Tulip.

She wedged her legs firmly into the gap between the last rungs, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and fell back. Her entire torso vibrated intensely as the loudest sound she'd ever heard shook itself into her skull. It sounded like thunder and screaming and freedom. She pulled her head back, shivering. Wind blew across the back of her neck. She checked her reflection in her braceleted hand. Her hair was almost entirely gone, save for a few needle-like strands. Part of her eyebrow had been shaved away, leaving a gap. It looked badass, no two ways about it. And no one would _ever_ think to call her pretty now. She smiled.

For the first time ever, she looked like herself.


End file.
